Miracles
by Higgles123
Summary: Tommy Shelby Christmas one shot


Tommy growled, slamming down the phone with a bang. It was Christmas Eve and the snow had fallen suddenly, coating almost the entire country in a thick, white blanket. It was like a scene from a Christmas card; beautiful to look at and admire, but extremely inconvenient in real day to day life. Tommy had come to Liverpool for a midday meeting this morning but was now seemingly stuck there for the foreseeable future. There were no trains, no buses and the roads were too poor to travel long distances; not unless one had a death wish. Which Tommy Shelby most definitely did not. He hadn't survived France, Billy Kimber and the likes of Solomons and Sabini only to be killed by the weather.

He'd phoned Polly to inform her that he wouldn't be home for Christmas and likely not for Boxing Day either because the snow was still falling relentlessly. He wasn't even that annoyed because it meant a great deal to him as such; it was more the fact of fact being stuck in a city he didn't know all that well for at least the next two days. He had things to do in Birmingham and now he felt himself getting prickly and feeling like a trapped animal.

His meeting had taken place on the outskirts of the city centre where the standard of living was reminiscent of Small Heath, which in a strange way made Tommy feel more at home than the grand hotel he had managed to book himself into before his phone call to Polly. Pulling up the collar of his coat to fend off the biting wind, he put his head down and began walking to his car.

He heard the crying child before he saw them. He rounded the corner to see a little girl, no older than seven or eight, sprawled on the floor beside his car with blood pouring from her knee. The crimson red mingled with the virgin white of the snow and for a second his mind was back in a cold trenches of France. Shaking his head to rid himself of those thoughts, he crouched beside the little girl and smiled warmly.

"Are you alright, little one?" he asked.

"I fell over and hurt my leg and now I've smashed the eggs and Niamh is gonna be really upset with me and we won't have anything to eat and it's all my fault and I think my leg might fall off and then how will I go to work when I'm big…" she spewed out in one big babble, and Tommy noticed the box of smashed eggs next to her dainty little hand.

"Don't worry about the eggs," he reassured her, pulling out his handkerchief to wipe at the blood on her leg. No sooner had he wiped it though did more ooze out and he realised the cut looked fairly deep.

"But Niamh is gonna be really really mad," her bottom lip trembled as he held the napkin on the cut.

"Who's Niamh? And why would she be mad?"

"She's my big sister. She's not big cos she's tall though, she's big cos she's twenty two and I'm only seven," the little girl explained. "She sent me out to get eggs for dinner, and she couldn't go because the baby has got a cough and it's too cold for him to come out. But now I've broken the eggs and we won't be able to buy any more cos we don't have very many money cos my mummy went to heaven when she had my baby brother, and my dad ran off with the skank from the betting shop. That's what Niamh says anyway."

Tommy's lips twitched as the little girl innocently regaled him with what sounded like her entire life story.

"So Niamh is your big sister," he said. "And what is your name?"

"I can't tell you," she pulled a face. "Niamh says I'm not allowed to talk to strangers and tell them my name."

"That's very good advice," Tommy smirked. "But if I tell you my name then I won't be a stranger any longer, will I?"

"I suppose not," she eyed him warily.

"Thomas Shelby," he smiled, holding out his hand for her to shake. "Now will you tell me your name?"

"Sarah Jones," she shook his hand back with a beaming grin.

"Do you live near?" he questioned.

"Up that street," she pointed to a little side street across the road.

"Alright then, Sarah Jones," Tommy nodded, scooping her up and holding her with one arm underneath her legs and the other around her middle. "Let's get you home."

"You talk funny," Sarah commented as they walked up the snowy street.

"That's because I'm from Birmingham," he explained.

"Is that far?"

"Quite far," he nodded. "It takes a good few hours by car."

"You have a car?" her hazel eyes widened in awe.

"Yes," he smirked. "It was my car that you had fallen over next to."

"Oh that's a very pretty car, Mr Thomas," she commented. "I like cars. I've never been in one before."

"Never?"

"Nope," she shook her head. "We don't have a car and I don't know anyone who does. Well, Mrs Dowes at the end of our road has a son who got to ride in a police car the other day, so he was quite lucky I think."

"Well, perhaps before I go back to Birmingham, you can have a ride in my car, eh?" Tommy suggested. "If you'd like that?"

He wasn't exactly sure why he had made such an offer, but there was something sweetly endearing about the little girl.

"Really?" she clapped in glee. "But wait. Tomorrow is Christmas which means you'll be going back to Birginham won't you?"

"I was supposed to be," Tommy grinned, amused by her attempt at pronouncing his home city. "But I can't get home because of all this snow. Still, at least Father Christmas will have plenty of places to land his sleigh when he drops all your presents off, won't he?"

"He's not coming to our house this year," she looked down solemnly, her little bottom lip wobbling again. "Cos did you know grown ups have to give Father Christmas money to make the toys?"

"I did know that, yes," he nodded.

"Well that's why he can't come to us this year," she explained. "Cos the man who we pay to live in our house is a mean ugly monster. I was sat at the top of the stairs last week when I was supposed to be sleeping and he pushed Niamh against the wall. He kissed her but she smacked him in the face, and then he took all of our Christmas money from the special biscuit tin that doesn't really have biscuits in."

"I see," Tommy answered impassively, although inside he felt pity for the little girl.

No child should go without at Christmas. He himself remembered the year that he had awoken along with Arthur, John and Ada, running down the stairs excitedly to see what had been left in their stocking, but what they found had been no cause for celebration. Their mother was downstairs crying, sweeping up what looked to be chopped up pieces of fabric and wool. Her tears splattered pitifully as she sobbed upon seeing her children's bewildered faces.

"I'm sorry, my little cherubs," she had whispered. "Father Christmas' reindeers got too tired and had to turn back for home. But they'll bring you your gifts in a day or two, don't you worry."

It was only once they were grown that Polly had told them the truth of that day. Their father, the drunken excuse of a man that he was, had come home from the pub in his usual foul mood, having spent all of his money on whores and drink. Their mother hadn't been able to buy them much that year, but she had knitted them each a little teddy bear with clothes in their favourite colours and saved them a shiny penny each.

But their father in his drunken temper had decided that hitting his wife wasn't enough of a torture and instead turned his anger upon his young children sleeping upstairs, dreaming of a man in a red suit. He had stolen the pennies from their stockings and then with a sneer had cut up the little bears that his wife had spent months making each night when the children were in bed. All that had been left was a pile of destruction and heartbreak on the wooden floor.

Tommy had never forgotten the disappointment he'd felt that morning. His elation and anticipation had turned into sadness, yet he had never showed that to his mother. None of them had, because they didn't want her to cry even more. She cried enough and it pained their little hearts to see it.

Sure enough, a few days later they awoke to each find a brand new toy on the end of their beds; toy cars for the boys and a little doll for Ada. But their greatest present was seeing their mother smile again as she watched them play happily with their new toys.

"This is my house," Sarah spoke suddenly, pointing to a small house nestled amongst tens of other identical grey brick houses. It looked clean and presentable enough from the outside; the windows and the net curtains that hung at them were spotless.

With a nod, Tommy stopped and rapped sharply on the door. A young woman answered and Tommy found himself wondering how someone so beautiful could possibly belong in a place such as this. Her blonde hair was shiny and thick and framed her heart shaped face, huge brown eyes and full lips. She was the epitome of light in a place that looked to be forged upon darkness and drudgery.

"Sarah!" she gasped. "What's happened? Are you alright? Oh God, come in out of the cold, quick."

"I'm ok, Niamh," Sarah assured her. "I fell over and smashed all the eggs but Mr Thomas helped me home and did you know he said I can have a ride in his car because he's not going home to Birginham for Christmas and is going to be here all alone."

"What have I told you about taking a pause in between sentences?" Niamh patted her sister's face affectionately, motioning for Tommy to set her down at the kitchen table.

Tommy glanced around the sparsely furnished house, noticing that in shape and design it was almost identical to Watery Lane. Aside from that though, the two homes couldn't have been more different. Watery Lane was full of little homely touches; patterned china that had been passed down from Tommy's grandmother to Polly and one day would go to Ada; photographs of the family; little ornaments and trinkets of sentimental value. Aside from a table and chairs and an old threadbare couch, there was nothing much in this home that said people even lived there. Yet despite the sparseness of the place, there was a warm feeling that had nothing to do with the pathetic fire that was half lit and exuding only an ounce of heat throughout the draughty building.

Peering at her sister's bleeding leg with a frown, Niamh turned to fill up a bowl with some hot water. "How did you manage to do that, Sarah sausage? Trip over your own feet again?"

"It was the snow, Niamh," Sarah squeezed her eyes shut and grimaced as Niamh began cleaning her leg. "It was slippery and I just fell. Are you mad about the eggs?"

"No love," Niamh pinched Sarah's nose and smiled. "All I care about is that you're ok. You're worth more than any number of eggs."

"Even one hundred?" Sarah giggled.

"More than a thousand even," Niamh grinned.

"Did you hear that Mr Thomas?" Sarah asked Tommy, and Niamh looked up suddenly with her mouth parted having momentarily forgotten about their guest.

"Oh you must think I'm so rude," she apologised, wiping her hands on the apron around her waist and then holding one out. "Niamh Jones; nice to meet you. And thank you so much for helping my little Sarah."

"Thomas Shelby," Tommy smiled, shaking her hand back and ignoring the way his heart seemed to suddenly pound when their skin touched. "It was no trouble at all."

"Can I get you a drink? Something warm to say thank you before you go back out into the cold?"

"Oh, I'm alright, thank you," Tommy shook his head. "I should probably get going anyway. I need to get into the city centre while I can. Hopefully my car isn't stuck in the snow out there."

"Hopefully not," Niamh grinned. "Otherwise you'll have to walk, and they don't look like particularly good shoes for walking in snow."

Tommy found himself smiling at her easy going manner, and when his gaze fell upon Sarah's pleading eyes he knew he wasn't going anywhere for the time being.

What Tommy hadn't expected was for two hours to have passed and he still to have not

ventured outside of the little two bedroomed house. Sarah was rather enamoured with her new friend and had bombarded him with an endless list of questions, while ten-month old baby, Peter had sat on the stranger's knee and chewed his fingers.

Niamh had found it rather odd that a man so well put together and seemingly well off was so comfortable in a grotty little house with two small children all over him. But as the time had worn on and they had spoken a little, she realised that Thomas Shelby was nothing like his appearance suggested. He was down to earth and witty, and he didn't behave as though children were pests; instead he welcomed their company.

He had enquired politely about their family life and had listened to the answers laced with faux happiness that Niamh had given. Around here, most families were in a similar situation financially so they understood the hardships she faced in trying to raise her two siblings alone, but for some reason she didn't want _him _to look down upon her or her family.

If she could see inside Tommy's head, she would have been surprised to find that the only thoughts whirling around were that the woman before him was strong and brave, and full of so much love for her brother and sister that they were rich in a way that money could never make them.

"I should really be going," Tommy stood eventually, passing the now sleeping baby into Niamh's waiting arms. "Thank you for the tea."

"You're quite welcome, Mr Shelby," Niamh smiled warmly. "Thank you again for helping Sarah. I can't thank you enough."

"You be careful now, eh?" Tommy crouched down and pinched the little girl's nose. "No more falling over or maybe next time you really might lose your leg to gangrene."

Sarah giggled at his teasing, drawing yet another smile from him.

"Can I still have a ride in your car?" she asked.

"Sarah, that's awfully rude," Niamh admonished. "Sorry Mr Shelby. Apparently along with damaging her leg, my sister appears to have forgotten her manners."

"Well, I did offer," Tommy scruffed Sarah's hair affectionately. "I promise that as soon as the snow clears a little, you can have a ride yeah?"

"And you promise you won't leave before I can have a go?"

"I promise," Tommy nodded curtly.

"Hmm," the little girl narrowed her eyes unsurely. "Pinkie promise?"

"Pardon?"

"Pinkie promise," she repeated, holding out her left hand so that her pinkie finger was sticking out towards him. With a smirk, Tommy held out his own they shook them momentarily.

Niamh smiled watching the two of them. There was something utterly charming about the way he was so sweet with her sister. She knew the little girl missed their father and needed a strong male figure in her life, but sadly, Niamh didn't have one to offer.

"Sarah, will you go and put Peter into bed?" Niamh asked, passing the baby over gently.

"Ok," Sarah nodded, grinning at Tommy once more. "Goodbye Mr Thomas."

"I think you've found a friend," Niamh smirked, walking Tommy to the door. "I hope your ears aren't ringing too much from all of her chatter."

"No," Tommy shook his head and smiled. "I've enjoyed myself truly. She's a sweet girl, and it was certainly better than sitting alone in a hotel room, feeling trapped like a chicken in a coop."

"You must be sad not to be with your family for Christmas?"

"A little," he admitted with a shrug. "But knowing my family the way I do, it'll only end up in an argument over Christmas dinner and someone getting drunk, which will then lead to more arguments anyway."

"Isn't that most families at Christmas?" Niamh chuckled, wishing with all of her heart it would be her family. At least when her mother and father were here, they didn't have much but they always had each other, and Christmas was full of fun and laughter. "We aren't really celebrating this year because… well it doesn't really matter why, but we would still like it if you would perhaps consider spending the day with us?"

"Oh, I don't know," Tommy murmured even though he knew that was a downright lie.

"Please," Niamh tried again. "I'm sure it won't be anything like what you're used to but I know Sarah would love to see you again, and I'd hate to think of anyone being alone for Christmas."

"Alright," Tommy nodded, trying to hide the smile threatening to break out upon his face. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"See you tomorrow, Mr Shelby."

"Tommy," he did smile then. "It's Tommy."

"See you tomorrow then, Tommy."

….

Niamh was sat up in bed watching little Peter as he sucked his thumb in his sleep. Silent tears poured down her face as she counted the meagre few coins in her purse. Sarah and Peter deserved more from life than she could give them. She had love for them in abundance but that didn't feed them and clothe them, did it? Love didn't replace all the things she couldn't provide them with.

A gentle rap at the door broke her from her sombre thoughts and with a frown, she wrapped her thin blanket around her shoulders and crept down the stairs quietly so as not to wake the children. She had no idea who could be knocking at this time of night, and she felt a strange gnawing when she thought it could perhaps be her scummy landlord. But there was no point in ignoring him because he would only create a scene which would wake Sarah and Peter, as well as attract attention from the neighbours.

"Tommy?" she furrowed her brow, unable to contain her surprise when she saw him stood on her doorstep.

He smiled that handsome smile she had noticed earlier in the day, and her legs suddenly felt like jelly.

"Can I help you?" she asked, eyeing him warily.

"You can help me bring these inside," he motioned to three wooden crates on the floor.

"What on earth is all of this?" Niamh questioned, picking up one of the crates while Tommy picked up the other two.

"This…" he answered, dumping the crates gently onto the kitchen table and pulling off his gloves. "…Is for you."

"Come again?"

"This is for you and the children," he explained, looking a little sheepish as he began pulling things out of the crates. "I hope you won't be offended but when I was carrying Sarah back here, she mentioned that Father Christmas wasn't coming to visit this year, and of course I noticed the lack of decorations in here before. Then you mentioned that you weren't celebrating Christmas and well, I didn't think I could let that happen."

"Things have been… difficult," Niamh swallowed the giant lump in her throat at knowing that her sister had told a complete stranger about their financial troubles.

"From what I can see you're doing the best you can," Tommy looked at her sadly. "But sometimes our best isn't good enough no matter how hard we try, is it?"

"No," she whispered, a lone tear dripping onto the floor. She refused to crumble in front of a man she didn't know, but there was just something about the way he was looking at her that made her want to break down and let him catch her.

"Look, don't take this the wrong way, but I've been where you are now," he spoke truthfully. "My family grew up with nothing and I know what it's like to watch your brothers and sisters cry because they're hungry, or because they didn't get anything for Christmas. My mum always did her best for us, but due to circumstances out of her control sometimes her best just wasn't enough. Which is why I wanted to help you out. There's decorations here and some presents for the little ones. I didn't manage to get a goose at short notice and in the middle of a snow storm but I've got you a nice piece of beef and all the trimmings."

"I can't accept all of this," Niamh shook her head, looking at all of the stuff in awe. "We're not a charity case, Mr Shelby."

"I never implied that you were," Tommy sighed. "I just… look, I'm not good with words and all that sort of stuff, but I just wanted to do something nice for you; for all of you. If you won't let me do it to help you out, then at least let me do it for those kids upstairs. They deserve to believe in the magic of Christmas, because one day they'll be old like us and that magical glass will be shattered forever."

Niamh was torn because she could see the truth in this crystal clear blue eyes, and she knew he was only trying to do something nice.

"Speak for yourself about being old," she said eventually, her eyes twinkling playfully.

And just like that, the tension was broken. Tommy eagerly showed Niamh everything he had purchased and she couldn't wipe the smile from her face.

Over the next hour, they decorated the house together with tinsel and garlands, and made paper chains together out of coloured paper. Tommy climbed up on a chair to secure them to the ceiling while Niamh wrapped the presents for Sarah and Peter.

"Sarah's going to lose her mind when she sees all of this," Niamh commented sitting back on the couch when they were done, looking at their handiwork. "I don't know how I can ever thank you enough."

"No thanks are necessary," Tommy waved her off, taking a drag of his cigarette before handing it to her. She took it gratefully and passed him back the bottle of whisky they had been working their way through together.

"I think they are," she turned and looked at him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The the fire was now roaring and the house was warm. Niamh had been unable to let their guest sit in the freezing cold so she had used some of their precious wood from the shed to heat the house thoroughly. She couldn't say she was exactly opposed to the warmth either if she was being honest.

She took a drag of the cigarette and went to hand it back to Tommy, but he shook his head and pulled another one of his pocket and lit it. His head rested against the back of the sofa and he looked up at the red and green paper chains above them.

"There is one thing you can do to thank me," he said suddenly, jumping up from the sofa and holding his hand out. "You can dance with me."

"What?" she snorted. "There's no music and it's the middle of the night. I'm in a nightdress for god's sakes."

"So?" Tommy shrugged, his eyes twinkling as they bored into hers. He was feeling the merry effects of the alcohol coursing through his system, and he realised that this last hour spent with her, chattering mindlessly about their upbringings and life had been one of the best hours he'd had in a long time. "And we don't need music. We can pretend there's some or if you really need me to, I'll just hum a little tune."

A little bit tipsy from the whisky, Niamh threw back her head and giggled, allowing Tommy to pull her up to her feet. His arms around her were warm and his palm against the small of her back burned through the thin material of her nightgown. They swayed from side to side to an imaginary song as their eyes said all the things they both wanted to say but didn't. How could they? They were essentially strangers; they had no right to feel anything more than a friendly acquaintance, yet both felt the pull of something more.

Tommy's hand reached up to cup her face, his thumb brushing across her cheekbone as his eyes ate up her own. His lips touched hers in a butterfly of a kiss that left them both craving more. He inhaled her mewl of pleasure as his tongue slipped inside her mouth and acquainted itself with hers. He pulled her closer so their bodies were pressed up against one another with no gap whatsoever.

They broke apart with a timid smile as baby Peter began to wail from upstairs. Niamh didn't know what to say or how to react to the unexpected kiss they'd just shared, and so she was grateful for the excuse to leave him for a minute and compose herself.

When she returned a few minutes later, Tommy was waiting for her on the couch. She sat down beside him, leaning into his warmth. He stroked her hair as they watched the flickering flames of the fire dancing. They were both asleep before they knew it.

….

"Niamh! Mr Thomas!" Sarah's voice squealed as her little hands shook them both awake. "He's been! He's been! Father Christmas has really been!"

"What time is it?" Niamh croaked, cracking open an eyelid to be greeted with her sister's elated face.

"Six," Tommy murmured from beside her. She sat up with a start, having forgotten the night before until she heard him speak.

Tommy looked at her with smiling eyes, and Niamh bit her lip to stop herself from crying when she saw Sarah tearing her presents open eagerly. Tommy took her hand and squeezed it, rubbing his thumb back and forth across her hand in a soothing motion.

"Niamh! Look I got a new dolly," Sarah yelled and clutched the doll to her chest with a beaming smile. "Can you believe he came?"

"No," she whispered, her bottom lip wobbling.

She couldn't believe this had really happened, even though she had been part of creating it only hours before. Yesterday, her life had been full of despair and cold. Yet now, despite the heavy snow still falling outside, she felt as though there was warmth and hope to be had once again.

Perhaps at Christmas time, miracles really did happen.


End file.
